How I’m learning to love my body

This is a rather spontaneous splatter of thought so bare with me!

First of all, allow me to explain my mentality, which I am trying to crawl my way out of.

When I’m about to have a meal, I create a mental image of how its contents are going to become a percentage of my body fat. Whilst I’m eating, I’m constantly ‘measuring’ my waist with my hands to observe how bloated the meal makes me. If my stomach goes past a certain size, I stop eating. I used to call this ‘mindfulness’. I’m not satisfied, but hey, still lean after eating, so I guess that’s how it works! Before having another meal, I look at the mirror constantly to see if my body deserves another meal by being thin enough. If it is, hurray! Dinner! If not, oh well, a biscuit and tea will do.

I am not going to get into detail about how I got to this point, that won’t help anyone. All I know is that this is not healthy and I project this utterly abusive behaviour onto loved ones by counting their calories as well as mine. However, I’d like to share how I’m learning to get out of this mindset, and that is by practicing this kind of…detachment.

My body is the way it is because I lost a lot of weight since I’ve been a teenager. In the culture I’m from, you’re almost applauded for this kind of an ‘achievement’. Therefore, I obtained a strange sense of pride. I made a conscious decision to not ascribe pride to my weight. Pride is already a ridiculous notion on its own, let alone when it is gained through something demeaning. Instead of thinking ‘I’m proud…’ I now think ‘I’m happy…’ and I am happy for a healthy body. I have been blessed with a sturdy physique that, in my eyes, makes my body look strong. Perhaps it’s my Taurus ascendant…that would explain the stereotypical ‘plump’ Venusian features, but this is not an astrology post – I’ll note it down for another one though.

Another form of this detachment is not looking at food relatively to your body, i.e. I no longer try to wrap my hand around my upper arm after eating pizza. That’s not how food works, it’s not like a bagel will be directly transported onto your thighs.

I look at my arms as tools to carry my belongings and I no longer spend my time obsessively looking at them in the mirror three times a day in order to see if I can still see my bones. I look at my legs as a form of transportation! They get me from A to B. I no longer try to measure by how much my thigh gap becomes narrower if I decide to spend the day indoors and not do any squats. I look at my abdomen as…an abdomen? It keeps my two halves in tact, I suppose. I hope you get the gist.

Beware though, that by ‘detachment’ I do not mean ‘ignorance’. I learned how to listen to my body. If my stomach starts growling, I’m hungry. If I have a headache, I’m probably dehydrated. If I feel somewhat feeble, it means it’s time for a nice walk or some other pleasant form of movement. I am slowly discovering what my body likes and dislikes. I no longer try to have a complete control over it. Instead, I established a healthy form of communication between my physical and mental well-being. And it is incredibly rewarding! It gave me a sense of freedom from judgement – especially my own judgement, which I deemed as someone else’s way of looking at me.

In not a very conclusive conclusion, I’m off to make dinner. I will have more intelligent things to say about this as I will keep on learning.

Please love yourselves, because it’s only your own love that is truly fulfilling.~


Queer belonging

I do not wish my life to be linear.

I want it to be a wrinkle in time,

Passing one at the time,

Collage of fleeting moments

Recorded, preserved

And cruised by others

In search of collective memory.

A flaneur,

The bohemians…

Will become my true friends,

And we will paint our queer belonging

In the future

We do not yet have,

But subconsciously own

And can call home.


The impact of beautiful works in queer theory I am currently reading ~


I’m tired of a constant, unfeasible desire,

Of being ghost of my own imagination,

Of magnetic attraction

To the warmth of your skin

That belongs to someone else.

My passion is unfathomable,

Hidden, prisoned, abandoned –

I forgot it exists

Until your gaze awakened it

In all its being.

I pray to all gods

To leave my heart alone

But they chose to tear it apart

With the fire

That instead of extinguishing

I ignited.

I’m tired of

Someone’s love

Being ghost

Of my own infatuation.

Writing is my ‘secondary’ nature, I suppose.

I am, in so-called-real-life, a Part 1 Architecture graduate, and now published my entire university portfolio HERE!

If you’re curious about what’s going on in the head of a very conceptual architecture student, feel free to check my website.:-)

Custom domain is not in place yet because of many other ideas I have for the website, in other words, it’s work in progress, but I have archived all the work from the last three years of architectural education.

so yeah


Eglé ~


Writing about you

Makes me feel closer

Two what we could be

For standing next to you

Makes me crave

Either always being by your side

Or an absolute solitude.

Let’s talk

Let’s talk

Let’s talk

About why bats can see only at night

About why the sea runs away in the moonlight

About why we hate our bodies

And why we love them.

Let’s talk

About what terrified us when we were children

About why the shade of sun is golden

About why we ever started talking

And what kept the conversation going.

Let’s talk

About all the languages we’ve ever heard

About why the others are a common herd

About why we like each other’s hands

About how we hold them

locked together.

Let’s talk

About them

About nothing in particular

About everything

About us

and I’ll think about you.

on reading

I have started reading when I was 5. I remember my mum taking me to the library for the very first time and for me it was an ultimate wonderland. The first book I remember laying my hands on was ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ and it was in English. Now, at that time the only language I knew was Lithuanian, so the librarian kindly pointed that out to me.

I’ve been a regular visitor of the library. It was my favourite place in town. We’ve moved a lot and in every place, I found a nearby library no matter where we went. I wanted to be a librarian at one point. There was something about being surrounded by books all day long that fascinated me.

Reading is one of those things I stuck to throughout my entire life. I loved reading then, I love reading now. There is something about waking up in your bedroom, picking up a book and suddenly being somewhere far away with the travellers or adventurers and then picking up another book and having a conversation with a philosopher or a scientist about what the future holds. You go to numerous places, you meet numerous people who may even become your close friends and most importantly you learn.

I remember how me and my best friend used to make a trip to a local library every now and then; we would pick our books, go back to her place, make ourselves some tea, sit on a sofa and read for hours. Two of us were in different places with different characters despite being right next to each other. Then we would compete who could read more pages…

Reading is crucial to our intellectual well-being. Whether we read novels, or encyclopaedias, we learn how to speak eloquently and how to think creatively. Reading was crucial for my mental well-being; it kept me sane at the moments when I thought I’d lose it. Reading is not something to be taken for granted; words are the most valuable things we as humans can share.